Immediately after the war
by Articwolfstudios
Summary: AryaXEragon, Set immediately five minutes after Galby dies and romance blooms between Eragon and Arya. ON HIATUS! Sooo sorry! I need to finish my other stories first, ok? And a packed schedule doesn't help either...


**A/N: Wow. My first ever serious fanfiction. Ever. And it's an Arya X Eragon as well, the BEST COUPLE EVAR! Ahem, this is as in character as I can possibly write it (I'm not quite Chris but I do read his book. A lot. There that should be a good enough disclaimer. For that matter why does anyone bother to disclaim? This is a site dedicated to writing stories that belong to others).**

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Eragon was sprinting down a hallway in the great castle of Uru'baen. _Ilrea_, he reminded himself. Galbatorix had been slain by his hand not five minutes before, but the sounds of warfare was still echoing through the passageways. Eragon could not remember how long it had been since he was this tired but he kept running, if there was warfare then there was death, and if there was death then too few people had any idea that Galbatorix was in his throne room with a gaping hole through his heart. It amused Eragon that Fredric the Varden's weapons master had been right in his prediction of Galbatorix's demise. Only one other knew of the victory and that was Saphira. She had flown off to inform the Varden's leaders and to try, as Eragon was currently doing, to end the battle without any more casualties.

At every group of soldiers that Eragon encountered he would launch his mind into their being and force them to accept the reality of The King's death. The simple fact that Eragon could reach their mind should have been proof enough that The Shruikan's rider was dead, at the beginning of the battle nobody could probe another's mind as Galbatorix had wards preventing them from doing so, but then these men were not trained to recognise such things. They knew how to swing a sword and fire a bow, that was their purpose in this war.

Such were Eragon's thoughts as he rounded a bend and saw a fifth group of soldiers. He prepared his voice to carry the message of The Varden's victory when he was suddenly frozen in horror and his feet were rooted in place. He made no sound and attracted no attention from the soldiers that surrounded the elf that he was smitten with; she of the raven dark hair who clutched at a wound in her side and held a sword with her left hand, her brilliance denounced with blood that streamed from many parts of her body.

Without even thinking, Eragon launched his mind at the group who dared to threaten Arya with their swords. From their thoughts he quickly located the identity of the captain, his mind was a jumble of confusion; anger and lust chief among the conflicting roles.

The lust made Eragon furious at the man but before he could charge the group and slay every last one, the man's thoughts became cohesive.

_Ah, she is such a fair woman. I would love to keep her for myself._ At this point images flashed before the man's eyes of Arya killing his comrades-at-arms and he became aware of his men's gaze upon him. His brow tightened. _And yet, such is the course of war. I'm sure Galbatorix will have me rewarded for such an impressive accomplishment._

"Kill her."

Eragon with his superior hearing actually heard it a split second before any of the man's subordinates. He leapt forward, past the normal boundaries of his formidable strength, past the soldiers who were striding towards the elf, clutching her side and gasping for breath. Her hair matted with gore and plastered to her forehead with sweat.

Eragon landed in front of the woman he sought to protect and swept Brisingr in an arc and through the first man who meant her harm.

"Nobody. Touches. Her." He growled through gritted teeth as the severed body dropped to the floor.

They charged.

Eragon was lost in a blistering storm of swords, spears and axes gyrating towards him. The fifty strong unit was attacking him all at once and he had not the time to cast a spell to kill them simultaneously. His wards had been expended during his fight with Galbatorix and Shruikan; Aren was nothing more than an empty stone-all of its energy had been used. Time seemed to slow as he cut and hacked through the men, somehow managing to parry all the attacks that were thrown at him. It was no mean feat, he had to guard both his front and his back as well as protect Arya who was nothing more than a deadweight at this point, though of course he never thought of her as such.

It seemed hopeless and Eragon was about to collapse when, after what seemed an eternity, finally the men disappeared, they lay littered around his feet in a great bloody pile.

He stood there for a moment, breathing deep and fast before he remembered Arya and turned towards her. She was standing by him, her eyes misty with exhaustion, chest rising and falling. She seemed to not be able to get enough air in. She gave him a small, heart melting smile before she collapsed into his open arms.

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A faint throbbing pounded from within Arya's head when she awoke. It took her nearly a full minute to realise that the sound that was causing her so much grief was cheering. The racket was emanating from the outside of her tent and from thousands of weary soldiers. For a moment she had absolutely no clue why they were so happy, where she was and for a fraction of a second quite philosophically, who she was! Then the memories of the last hundred years of her life came crashing upon her, prominent among them were the memories of the previous day. She sat up so fast that the world spun around her and she lurched to one side. They had won! Galbatorix was vanquished! Well, that was what she presumed. She couldn't imagine victory without the death of that great tyrant.

Steadying herself she studied the room she found herself in, to her pleasure she discovered she was in her own tent in her own bed. It was Spartan compared to her own room is Tialdarí hall but she had spent more nights in this room over the years than she had in the living woodhouse of Ellesmera. Blinking away sleep, Arya looked to the foot of her cot and was surprised to find Eragon sprawled on the floor, he almost seemed to have collapsed upon entering the small room. She bit her lip and giggled, something that she hadn't done since Faolin died. The thought sobered her mood but failed to eradicate the feeling of joy she had of the freedom she now felt. She remembered with concern how Eragon had flung himself in harm's way to protect her, Arya thought briefly of Eragon's devotedness to her and for a moment thought herself lucky that she had garnered such an emotion from the rider. At the very least it had saved her life.

Quickly she berated herself for having such unsavoury thoughts and not checking Eragon's health sooner. To anyone watching it would have appeared that she glided to Eragon's side and nudged him awake, his eyes flew open and he smiled in pain upon seeing her.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin Arya-drottningu"

She smiled at his polite deference to her.

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr"

"Un du evarínya ono varda." Eragon concluded.

"Why did you sleep on my floor Eragon?" Arya asked, bemused by his disarrayed appearance, " Surely you could have found cosier accommodations?"

After a brief pause from his lethargy, Eragon replied,

"I may have been able to but as soon as I set you down I fell asleep myself." Eragon laughed and then inhaled a quick and sharp breath before clutching his left shoulder, which had until that point been obscured from Arya's vision.

Arya was about to reply that she had observed as much but was cut off when she saw a terrible wound in Eragon's shoulder. It looked as if a pike had cut through his plate armour and even his mail, taking the brunt of the force, but it appeared that the weapon had splintered and the shrapnel had shredded the muscle of his shoulder. All this she took in at a glance and worried that he hadn't even taken the armour off and there may yet be worse wounds she berated the noble fool.

"Eragon, why have you not healed yourself?"

Eragon's eyes had nearly glazed over as they talked but he snapped his gaze back to Arya as soon as her voice changed to concern.

"I... I believe I was too tired, 'till too tired" He yawned, "I'm going to go to sleep now if that's alright..."

Saphira roared down at him through both their mental connection and with her voice causing everyone within a league of the tent to turn and with all those who surrounded the roaring dragon, dive to the floor and cover their ears. It was enough to wake Eragon up.

"Eragon, you'll die if you don't allow me to attend to that." And without waiting for his permission she reached forward and spoke with the authority of The Ancient Language. His wound shivered and itched greatly before it smoothed over, healed.

"Thank you Arya." Eragon said, his gaze drooping, "I was so tired last night after slaying that fiend and then helping you," he was careful to say help and not rescue, "that neither I nor Saphira had any spare energy after healing you."

"You risked your life twice last night!" Arya nearly shouted, "To save me a little discomfort?"

Eragon realised that he was in a precarious situation that nigh on resembled his quarrel with Islanzadi over Sloan. He replied in his most diplomatic of voices,

"Your injuries were worse than you make them out to be, it was I believe the right choice."

Her gaze softened and her heartstrings played a sweet melody.

"Thank you." She gave him the warmest smile she could muster. "But enough dawdling, what is the state of the Varden? Galbatorix is dead but what hold do we have on the land? What of Murtagh and Thorn? Do we have enough su-" Eragon cut her off with a weary gesture.

"Peace Arya, I will explain all I can in due course, Murtagh and Thorn are locked in a dungeon

-drugged- and awaiting me for judgement. As of the control we have on Alagaesia... well, to the best of my knowledge it is complete but Nasuada would be able to give you a better description."

"Is she holding a conference?"

"As we speak."

"Then we had best depart."

"That I fear I cannot accomplish. I can barely sit up. What's more I need this thrice blasted armour off but my fingers are as stiff as wood." He proved this in a mad struggle to untie the straps of his helm which he still wore, only to fail miserably and sink back down to his previous position.

Arya thought the sight was both humorous and sad at the same time and was made doubly aware of how tired the pair were when Saphira could not rally herself to laugh at her rider's misery as she usually did. She reached over and undid the helmet strap with a few deft movements. Eragon sighed in thanks.

Arya continued to untie the rest of his armour until Eragon was in nothing more than a rough jerkin and woollen trousers. She cringed at the smell of his sweat before realising that she probably smelt the same. A quick sniff proved that this was not the case and Eragon had cleansed her even her sweat and healed her fatigued muscles. She shook her head, smiling softly.

"Perhaps I could act as your emissary Eragon, and yours as well Saphira?"

"I would appreciate it greatly Arya," he smiled, forcing his eyes to remain open and locked onto hers.

_You have both our thanks._

"It is the very least I could do."

_It does not diminish its value._

"Perhaps not."

Eragon jerked himself awake again, "Take four of Blodhgarm's elves with you Arya."

"Why would I need to?" She asked surprised.

_The Mad King Galbatorix is as great a genius as he is insane._

"We wouldn't put it beyond him to attempt to strike at us from beyond the grave, especially after... well, I'll explain it later."

"What do you mean by that?"

_He could easily have issued orders to his minions to attempt to slay all of us in the event of his death._

"And there are three of us."

_Four elves each._

"Now go Arya, don't... keep... Nas... uada... waiting..." Eragon fell asleep, his exhaustion proving too much.

Saphira watched Arya with a tired eye that slowly drooped to the floor and shut closed.

Pausing for a moment, Arya took a deep breath and absorbed all the information that she had been assailed with. Then, rising to her feet, she lifted Eragon around his waist and carried him to her cot. She paused there, feeling the surprisingly pleasant feeling of holding another body, the way it moved with your own body, not stiff in the slightest. She could not know it of course but Eragon had done the exact same after their escape from Gil'ead, then she lowered him onto the soft mattress. She watched him softly for a moment as his expression changed to one of happiness, turning away she strode out of the tent and towards Nasuada's pavilion. Four elves followed her at a small distance.

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**A/N: Please read and review! I will try to update as frequently as possible, but as you can see, this is quite an accurate fanfic and takes ages to get just right. Now so long and thanks for all the fish!**


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